The Sins of The Few
by mjojo83
Summary: Isobel has lived through hell and she's just looking for a chance to start over. In a new town with no friends and no family she had to rely on herself if she wants anything. It only takes the sins of the few to wreak havoc on the many, she is living proof of that fact. More than anything she wants to find a way to have all of the death that surrounds her mean something.
1. Chapter 1

"Oliver!" she cried as she ran through the nearly empty streets of Starling City's finest ghetto. "Oliver, come back here this instant!" The anger in her voice grew as her breathing became more laboured from the exertion. "It's too late for this crap! Come back!" she turned down some unmarked alleyway she had seen him disappear off into. The five-inch pumps she was wearing were not ideal for chasing down any one, let alone her over stimulated blue nosed pitbull, over poorly paved streets. One of the heels caught in a crack and she tripped, sending her flying into the pavement.

Pushing herself up with a grunt she winced slightly at the stinging in her palms.

"Not a good start." She muttered to herself as she inspected the small cuts she got in the fall. "Oliver, you big baby, you are supposed to by my guard dog! It was a freaking cat!" She yelled again this time seeing the dog hiding along the shadows of the brick building only a few feet ahead of her.

Oliver whined slightly before giving her a look that clearly said _'this isn't home that that was a big ass cat'. _Isobel just laughed at the poor dog's expression and beckoned him closer as she stood up. Oliver was comically large for how scared he was of his own shadow. He wouldn't win in a fight but most dogs and humans alike just left him alone due to his sheer size. _'For protection'_ her father had murmured when he gave Oliver to her as a birthday gift. He had raised the dog himself leaving Isobel with only the task of feeding him and taking him on walks. That had been six years ago when she was still living in Blüdhaven, before it became a war zone, before she lost everyone.

It was just her and Oliver now, and she had made every attempt to get as far away from that toxic place as she could. There hadn't been a funeral for her loved ones; there hadn't been a body to have a funeral for. Instead she just left moving across the country as she could afford it, until she was as far west as she could get without leaving the country.

That was how she ended up running around the ghetto, or The Glades as people around here liked to call it, chasing after a dog with no bite, in clothes intended for an interview she'd had that afternoon.

"Come on Ollie, let's go home." She muttered, picking up the dog's leash that had escaped from her grasp when a cat crossed in front of them.

The walk back was much less eventful but Isobel was shocked by just how far Oliver had managed to run before she caught up with him. Several times she thought she felt someone behind her but every time she looked there was no one there. It left her on edge and forced her to keep a brisk pace until she reached the gate to her apartment, one she could not afford if she didn't get that bartending job she had applied for. Even then she didn't let her guard down until she had locked the door shut behind her. She had lived in a refuge camp for too long to ignore when her gut told her something was wrong.

Inside Isobel kicked of her heels and started sorting through some of the boxes she had brought with her, things she had collected in her inadvertent trip across the states, looking for Oliver's food. She swept her hair up into a messy but and set about organizing her home, checking her phone like a madman hoping for a call from the bar that she had gotten the job. She had just cracked open a bottle of two-buck-chuck, the kind with a screw on cap, and poured herself a glass in a ceramic Santa mug when she felt it again. The nagging feeling that someone was watching her made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Isobel moved to the window, looking out on the unlit street. The closest street lamp as broken and the one two blocks down flickered sporadically. Only the moon provided any light to see anything by and from what she could tell the street was deserted. Unable to shake the feeling that someone was out there watching her she closed the blinds with one final glance around.

If Isobel had looked up along the roofline she would have seen it, a man in a green hood following her home and watching as she went about her life.

She thought about her interview and grimaced as she pointed out every flaw to herself. The woman running the interview looked younger than her and her attitude, while a well trained polite, was dismissive. Ms Queen made it clear that she didn't have time for people that weren't well trained. Isobel had laughed when the girl said it but shut up when she realised she was being serious.

'Well, I've worked in a bar before.' Isobel assured before smirking. 'And I can juggle whiskey bottles.'

'Excuse me?' Ms Queen asked with a doubtful expression.

'Well not just whiskey, would you like me to show you?' She pointed out to the bar.

'Please.' The brunette made a sweeping gesture but it was clear she still didn't believe that Isobel could do it. 'But if you break it you buy it.' she warned.

'Alright, what would you like to drink?'

'How about a Long Island Iced Tea?' a man's voice called from the doorway. 'Thea, are you giving away my job already?' a boy in a red hoodie walked up to them and but his arm protectively around Ms Queen's waist.

Ms Queen smirked but didn't answer as she looked at Isobel to start. She made it clear that she wasn't going to introduce them Isobel took the task upon herself.

'Well sir that I can do.' She smiled warmly. 'Name's Isobel.' She talked as she picked out the right combination of alcohol bottles. 'Now, am I making two or are you drinking solo?' Isobel tried her best to be friendly without being flirty, the last thing she needed was to not get the job because some teenage boss-lady thought she was trying to pick up her teen-bop boyfriend.

'Roy,' he pointed to himself and Isobel was reminded of a caveman for a second before he kept talking, 'and just one.'

'You got it.' She took the first bottle and spun it around in the palm of her hand before tossing it in the air and catching it behind her back. She continued throwing bottles in the air and making a spectacle of herself until the drink was poured. She placed the garnish on top and put it on the bar in front of her.

Roy took a sip and nodded over to his girlfriend with a look.

'Thank you for coming in, I have your number, I'll give you a call once we have made our decision.' Ms Queen ended the interview abruptly.

'Right.' Isobel nodded before stepping out from behind the bar. 'It was a pleasure to meet you.' She held out her hand, keeping eye contact with Thea Queen. Her look was clear; Ms Queen and Isobel both knew that she was the most qualified for the job. It was in the boss-lady's hands now and all Isobel could do was wait for an answer.

Serving drinks was Isobel's one chance at a job here. Other than her ability to throw bottles of booze around she didn't have too many marketable skills. She had dropped out of high school when she was sixteen because the bank was going to foreclose on their shack of a house and she had to get a job. She had found one at a seedy bar on the edge of town, cleaning glasses and wiping down tables. She was seventeen the first time she saw someone die, in the bar on the pool table; he had bled out from a gunshot wound to the stomach. She would have liked to say that was the last time she had seen death but in reality it was only the beginning.

She had seen shopkeepers shot in the head for little more than candy bars, girls younger than her climb into cars with horny men and never come out, fathers develop drug problems and left on the streets with drool still coming out of their mouth after their pulse had faded, mothers drinking families out of house and home leaving their children to starve. And then the day came, the day when it didn't matter anymore; it didn't matter if you spent the last of your money on a syringe hitting your arm, because you were all dead. Chemicals filled the air and no one was safe. A homegrown Chernobyl, killing thousands and those that it didn't kill were left with the scars to prove they had lived. They were the lucky ones.

Isobel had been lucky; in fact it was probably the only good thing about working in that bar. It was so far on the outskirts of town that the radiation was less intense. Of course that didn't make it any less deadly. Men still died, mostly the older patrons, but Isobel watched as she saw a few of the regulars keel over and take their last painful breath. That was when she knew to run, as far and as fast as she could, so she did. She didn't have to think twice about it as she ran to the cash register and pulled out everything she found, easily over four hundred dollars, and smashed it into her bag before running. She could feel the chemical's clinging to her throat as she ran. Tears were pouring down her face but all she could think of was to get out. She made it; she was one of the lucky ones.

In the days that followed there was chaos, she was alone and scared. Part of her hoped that her father had made it; the other part of her knew that he hadn't. Her sisters, her aunt, her childhood friends, they were all gone, and she was alone. Some politician decided to create a wall around the radioactive ghetto and within six months the project was completed. Camps littered the base of the wall, survivors.

Isobel was in one of the nicer ones, the one set up by the government for women and children, there was less crime but there were also fewer opportunities. They were more likely to starve; government handouts were sporadic at best and sometimes the food they got was rotten by the time it was distributed. She lived like that for months before she found him almost starved to death. She didn't know how he survived but he had. Oliver was a fighter and since that day they had gone everywhere together.

Isobel was so concentrated on her thoughts that the next time she looked at the clock it was a quarter past three.

"Get your life together Isobel!" she scolded herself as she got up and turned off the lights before moving to the back room and flopping onto the twin futon she had stuffed into the back of her pickup truck.

It wasn't until he saw the lights go out that the man in green abandoned his perch from the apartment building across the street from Isobel's.

**AN: Hi readers! I'm on the fence about this one but I was looking for just the right story and I couldn't find it so I tried to write it. Tell me what you think and if you like it I'll post more.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: For the record I actually do ship Oliver/Felicity. I'm just not writing that, I'll leave that to the show producers. I love Felicity, I can't write Felicity, and to spare everyone me trying to write Felicity I wrote another character. And my character won't be like Felicity because I can't write Felicity. Now Laurel I'm just not to fond of and Sara grates on my nerves so they won't be playing major roles in this one. Not that they won't make a cameo appearance because they are important. I imagine this taking place early season 2 and just as a warning I'm not going to rehash things that the show went over. I'll mention events more for time keeping purposes but at the end of the day this is Isobel's story. Bringing me to my last thought, My Isobel and Evil Isobel are not the same person. Their names are the same for a reason but I'll get to that later. Please enjoy and review, I would love to hear a little bit more feedback before I post again.**

The sharp ringing of her phone from the other room woke her from her fitful dreams. Isobel blinked blearily and rubbed her eyes at the sun streaming into her room due to the lack of blinds on the windows. She didn't know what time it was but if she had to guess based on the sun she would guess it was late, probably closer to noon than morning.

Silently cursing whoever was calling she pushed herself up and stumbled into the main room. In her haste she rammed her baby toe against the folding beach chair she had occupied last night.

"Ouch! Shit, crap, Ollie no!" she called as she saw Oliver destroying yet another pair of shoes. "Sorry, hello?" she asked into the phone.

"Yes, hello, this is Thea Queen, I'm looking for an Isobel Anderson." The woman on the phone sounded concerned and confused.

"Oh Ms Queen! Yes, this is Isobel. I am so sorry about that I just found my dog getting into some boxes." She laughed without really laughing before waiting for Thea to continue.

"Your dog's name is Oliver?" She asked barely containing her own laugh. "I'm sorry that's also my brother's name. Technically he owns the club you will be working at, that is if you still want the job."

"Yes! Yes, of course I want the job! When would I start?" She asked, mentally clearing anything that would have been on her nightly schedule for the foreseeable future.

"I can use a girl that knows what she's doing behind the bar tonight. My brother stocked this place to the rafters with dumb blondes but not one of them can make a decent drink, and Roy says you can." She sounded as if she were concentrating on something other than the conversation as she spoke to Isobel. "You should get here about four if you can so I can show you around and give you your uniform."

"Yes, yes I can be there." Isobel tried not to sound too desperate but knew she wasn't pulling it off well.

"Okay I have to go deal with my distributor." The line went dead while Isobel still held the phone to her ear.

"Ollie! I got the job!" She danced over to the dog, which gave her an appreciative bark before running to grab his leash that she had thrown on the ground last night. "Yeah come on I'll take you on a run." She laughed as she scratched behind his ears.

She continued to dance around as she got dressed and popped her headphones into her ears.

"Come on baby!" she nearly sung as she swung open the door letting Oliver free into the world. It was cold, surprisingly cold for the amount of sunlight that streamed through the clouds. Immediately she was thankful for the warm jacket she had grabbed as an afterthought. "Which way, right or left?" she asked letting Oliver lead the way, silently grateful that he chose the opposite way from the direction he chose last night.

Isobel set a brisk pace, looking to tire him out before she had to go into work. They had just passed mile five before she realised they were no longer in the ghetto, in fact they were in what looked like the business district, and Oliver was gaining some nasty looks from passers by. Isobel pulled the music from her ears but kept pace; refusing to acknowledge the idiots she was surrounded by. She was so focused on ignoring the busy streets that she didn't realise Oliver had stopped running next to her and assumed a defensive stance. She didn't notice until she felt her hand be pulled back to him by the leash.

"Oliver, What is it?" she asked before hearing him let out a menacing growl that was not like his usual behaviour at all. "Ollie come on!" She tugged on his leash but couldn't get anywhere. Suddenly he started moving again, faster this time and growling as he went. "Whoa, Ollie, Ollie stop!" she cried as her dog pulled her along farther into a line of people waiting out the door of a coffee shop. He finally stopped walking and sat down still growling at a man in an expensive looking suit.

"I am so sorry I don't know what's going on with him, he usually loves people." Isobel explained as she looked from her dog to the man. "Bad Ollie!" She scolded as the dog barked again.

"Your dog's name is Oliver?" the blonde standing next to him asked with a look of sheer amusement.

"Yeah, because his eyes are green like an olive." Isobel smiled, only a little confused. "Oliver sounded like a name with real nobility to it, I didn't know he'd end up being this much of a troublemaker. Don't worry he's all bark and no bite."

The blonde was outright laughing by the time Isobel was done with her rambling justification.

"Your dog's name is Oliver? It's fitting right, Ol – I mean, Mr Queen?" She nudged the man standing next to her.

"Queen? The woman that gave me a job's last name was Queen. Is it very popular around this area?"

"Not really." The man bit out as his eyes found hers. Isobel's brow furrowed at his tone and her eyes caught the blonde pointing up to the sign on a high rise. _'Queen Consolidated'_.

"Holy crap on a cracker." Isobel muttered as her eyes flitted back and forth between the man and the sign. Her mouth dropped open and she quickly had to fix it when she realised he started talking again.

"My name is Oliver Queen, it's nice to meet you." He held out his hand with a laugh.

"Isobel Anderson." She shook his hand. "I think your sister mentioned you when she offered me a job."

"And I'm Felicity." The blonde held up her hand. "What do you do?" Her question wasn't rude but it did seem a little pretentious.

"It's nice to meet you." Isobel spoke to Felicity but her eyes were caught in Oliver's, the person not the dog. " I'm a bartender. But it only became official this morning, before that I was just a girl that could juggle some liquor." She smiled seeing Felicity's confusion. "I watched Coyote Ugly about ten times in a row for my eleventh birthday, part of it just stuck. Well, Oliver, Felicity, it was nice to meet both of you. Maybe I'll see you at the club." Isobel pulled on Oliver's leash and dragged him away from the crowd.

"Of course you would have a problem with the one man in this whole city that I need." She talked to the dog as she walked away. "You are incredibly predictable."

Isobel arrived at the club five minutes early and wanted to yell at herself for seeming so desperate. When she walked in the television behind the bar was on but nothing was playing. Thea stood behind holding something in her hand. As Isobel got closer she saw it was a remote, she assumed it went to the television. Instead of acknowledging Isobel, Thea just turned around and an image popped up of some young man she didn't recognise.

"There's this thing in the business world called vetting." Thea started, still not looking at her. "When you came in I thought I recognised you."

"I don't think we have met before, I highly doubt we run in the same circle of friends." Isobel laughed to play off her worry about where this was going.

"No I don't think we do." Thea finally looked at her. "But then I remembered a video I saw, one that my brother's friends made on one of his trips to Vegas. He posted it online, it only took a second to find."

Isobel's confusion only grew as Thea pressed play. The young man's images started moving to a song she remembered and realisation struck her.

"Hello! If you aren't here with us right now that pretty much makes you a loser!" The man screamed into the camera as the song got louder. By the way he was slurring his words it became clear that he was very drunk. "Today is the four year anniversary of the day our best friend Oliver Queen was lost at sea. So tonight, at the lovely Pussycat Dolls Lounge, we honour him with a show we know he would have enjoyed!"

Suddenly the camera turned towards a large stage and there she was. Isobel stood on the stage with next to no clothing on. Some large announcer voice called her name and she started singing. The lyrics were as provocative as her clothing, or lack there of. Isobel watched as she danced around on stage in thigh highs and an emerald and black corset. She managed to listen through the boys jeering when she sung for them to 'go slow' and her command for them to 'seduce me' but when she hear some boy yelled that he had some 'milk for her to lick' after she promised to be their 'pussycat' she had heard enough.

"Okay I remember working there, thanks." Isobel motioned for her to stop playing the tape.

"Are you sure? We were just getting to the good part." Thea smirked. "One of them even thinks he loves you."

"So I'll never be able to run for president." Isobel shrugged. "I didn't know this was one of those types of jobs."

"It's not I just wish you had shared your talents with me on your resume, not that I need another dancer but it's nice to know I have a back up." Thea broke out into a smile and Isobel let out a breath, knowing that she had passed whatever sicko test Thea had created.

"Yeah, I don't really do that kind of thing anymore. It was more to pay the rent than actual passion. Besides I wasn't actually singing."

"I can guarantee that's not what people were coming for." Thea's eyes appraised her body with a smirk. "Next week if you work out I have a dancing slot that needs filling. I was going to hire some temp, but if you're here I'll give it to you."

"I don't know I really don't do that any more." Isobel was hesitant to accept this job.

"I'll pay you twenty dollars an hour." Thea promised with a look.

"I'll take it." Isobel didn't have to think about it any more.

"Okay, here's your uniform for tonight." Thea handed her an impossibly small neon orange bandage dress. "We open at seven."

"What am I supposed to do for three hours?" Isobel called at Thea's retreating figure.

"Set up the bar." Thea waved off her question as she walked away.

Isobel looked at the dress Isobel had handed her, there was a small gold name tag attached to it but instead of her name, printed in thin black lettering was the word 'pussycat'. Isobel grimaced as she walked off to the restroom to change.

She used the time to get used to the bar set up and cut fresh garnishes. As Isobel cut up lemon wedges she played with the knife she was using, spinning it around and working it between her fingers before jamming it into the cutting board when she was done. Ever since she was little she appreciated fiddling with things, she had taught herself to juggle mainly to stave off boredom and since then it had become second nature. The first time she played with a knife she sliced her hand up pretty bad and since then she had been a little more careful and it hadn't happened since.

"What, show's over?" came a deep voice from around a corner.

Isobel jumped, not expecting anyone else to be there.

"Jesus Christ!" she exclaimed.

"No, Oliver." He laughed. "I thought I might bother you for a drink." He sat down on one of the stools. "Something where I can see your alcohol juggling skills."

She could have been wrong but she thought he might be flirting with her.

"Okay, not dog Oliver, you seem like a bourbon man to me." She set about making a drink for him. "You know, the man in the video talked about an Oliver Queen. But you must not be the same one because they said he drowned or something, and correct me if I'm wrong but you look incredibly not drowned." She laughed at her own rambling.

"What video? Who said that?" He asked, clearly not finding it as amusing as she did.

"This video your sister showed me. I worked at a club in Vegas and I guess one of your friends was there. Average looking guy, short black hair, called himself your best friend." Isobel shrugged as she focused on spinning the bottles in her hands.

"Sounds like Tommy." Oliver sat back in the stool to watch her. "I was shipwrecked on an island for a few years. But I'm back now." Something about the tone in his voice told her that he wasn't as happy about that fact as people might have assumed he was. "That was almost two years ago, things have changed."

"Care to share?" Isobel joked as she sat the drink down in front of him.

"Not really." Oliver shook his head as he grabbed at the drink. There was a pause. "Can I see this video?"

"I'd rather no one see that video." Isobel rolled her eyes. "I've done a lot of things to make it here, and look where I am, serving drinks to THE Oliver Queen." She made a jazz hands movement as she said his name.

"Six hours ago you didn't know my name from Adam." He scoffed.

"I still don't." She muttered before turning around and organizing the top shelf liquors again.

"Thanks for the drink." He murmured.

By the time Isobel turned around he was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

A week had passed and Isobel hadn't seen any more of the elusive Oliver Queen. She worked at the club every shift that was available. She told herself that it was just to pay the rent but in reality she was making double what she needed to make rent and every extra shift she picked up was yet another excuse to maybe run into the handsome man. And he was handsome, his sapphire eyes pierced hers in a way that she had never seen anyone's do, the way his crisp Armani suit rippled when he walked gave away just how fit he was, and his hands, they were worn and calloused like a man that had worked long hard, not soft like a man that had never seen a hard days work. Above all else that is what she found appealing, his hands, they were the hands of a trustworthy man.

When Isobel showed up for work Thea sat at the bar smiling.

"So tonight's the night, I need a dancer and you are still here." Thea smirked as she tossed a small white uniform at her.

"What is this supposed to be?" Isobel examined the costume with a dubious expression. "Some sort of twisted sailor or something?" She eyed the red, white and blue garter that came with it. "I'm not really the patriotic type."

"It's fleet week, if you want to make money you have to be patriotic." Thea rolled her eyes. "I even made special drinks."

"White really washes me out." Isobel argued again hoping she could talk her way out of this.

"This is my 'I don't care' face." Thea pointed to her face with a scrunch of her nose.

Isobel held up the outfit and noticed the largest problem yet. It showed her stomach. The dress was essentially two parts connected with a metal ring in both the front and the back that would have no doubt displayed her navel.

"I'm not wearing this. Get someone else to do it." Isobel finally stated.

"We are three hours away from opening on the biggest night this club will see all year and you are backing out on me?" Thea screamed.

"If I have to wear that then yes. I don't show my stomach." Isobel hollered back.

She could hear someone enter the room but was too focused on her anger to notice them.

"What do you mean? I saw the damn video! There isn't much you don't let people see!"

"Yeah, well my stomach is off limits."

"What are you hiding?" Thea yelled as she stomped closer to Isobel.

Isobel considered stopping her, she knew that she could, but she decided to let her see. At least it would put an end to the argument. Not giving herself time to think about it she pulled the edge of her shirt up to expose her scarred stomach.

"You think people would pay to see this?" She asked in a cold voice.

"Oh my god! What is that?" Thea clamped her hand over her mouth as she backed away. "Is it contagious?" she finally asked.

Isobel had to suppress her eye roll as she saw Thea's reaction. The welts on her skin did stand out and their angry red colouring did suggest a level of toxicity that wasn't 'normal' but did the girl really think she would walk around infecting people?

"No, this is the parting gift you get when you live next to radioactive waste for the better part of a year." Isobel explained still holding up the edge of her shirt.

"Blüdhaven." A deep male voice called from behind her. Isobel spun around with her shirt still hiked up slightly. "That's what you mean, right? The radioactive city, I heard about it. You grew up there?" Oliver questioned as he walked up to her examining the scars she displayed.

It was as if her hands were frozen, she couldn't move them as much as she tried. She hated showing her scars; all they did was remind her of what she had lost.

"But that one," he pointed out. "That's not a radiation blister."

"Just what do you think it is?" Isobel finally found her voice and it was shaky at best.

"I wouldn't know, I've never seen anything like it." Oliver moved so that his hands forced hers down, letting her shirt cover her scars again. There was something in her voice that told her he was lying but she kept her mouth shut and levelled him with a glare.

"It's where some woman stabbed me for a loaf of bread, although I suppose you would never have seen something like that." Her voice had come back in full force and it held a malice she was not sure she actually felt, but it was easier than vulnerability for her. "I'll wear any other outfit, dance any song you want, but not that." Isobel turned back to Thea and threw the outfit at her. "I still have that one from the Vegas show." She offered. "Green's more my colour anyway." She smiled hoping that would be enough.

"Fine." Thea looked at her in a mix of confusion and disgust before nodding her head and turning away.

"Those aren't all radiation scars, and the ones on your back, those really aren't radiation scars." Oliver whispered. "And I have seen more than you think." His breath tickled the back of her neck causing her to shift uncomfortably.

"Is that judgement I hear, Mister Queen? I survived, those scars are a badge of honour, because every scar I got is a battle I won and I have fought greater evil than starving women." She wasn't sure where the anger was coming from but she went with it as she stormed past him. "And for the record," She turned around halfway to the door. "She didn't get it." She saw Oliver's confusion, "The starving woman that stabbed me for the bread, she didn't get it." Turning back around, she left without waiting to hear a response.

Later that night Isobel fiddled with the silky ribbons that wrapped around her waist, cinching her form together.

"Isobel, can't you just find a respectable job?" She asked herself as she shifted to release the pressure on her ribcage caused by the structured cage of an outfit. "Work in an office, nine to five, have an office romance, could be fun, more fun than drunken sailors. There's a damn fact." She tossed her hair a little bit.

"It's my impression that an office romance is highly overrated." A deep voice smirked from behind her.

Isobel jumped.

"Jesus Christ, Oliver! Do you like giving me a heart attack?" She scolded. "What are you doing back here anyways?"

"I own this club and this is the liquor storeroom." Oliver shrugged. "I came in to get Felicity a bottle of wine that I owe her."

"What if I had been naked?" She asked unable to control her heart rate.

"I would have seen you naked." Oliver nodded with a playboy smile.

"Cute." Isobel rolled her eyes as she pushed past him. "I have to go, we can't all be blessed with a trust fund." She rushed down the metal stairs and worked her way through a maze of people, ignoring the hooting and hollering by the men in uniform. She could feel Oliver's eyes on her from the catwalk above.

She took her spot on a small-elevated platform and started gyrating her hips to the music. Isobel had been on the stage for less than five minutes before a fight broke out. Everybody in the club had backed away from the two men. Women were screaming and the music halted. Without anything to do Isobel just stood there ogling the situation break out in front of her. She saw the security guard trying to force his way through the crowd but stopped by the mass of terrified and drunk people.

Her reaction was instinctual as she hoped down and put her body between them. She saw the meaty man raise his fist and it would have landed in a square blow to the jaw but because Isobel had placed her body between the two his fist made a cracking impact with her cheek.

"Holy hell!" Isobel screamed as she lost the clarity in her vision. The uniformed man that hit her was easily four times larger than her and it was all muscle, the man packed a punch and he was holding nothing back. "Hey, hey, take a break!" Isobel tried her hardest to break them up but she got no where as she grabbed at fabric and she heard ripping as they pulled out of her grasp.

Her brain wasn't working at full capacity as she tried to analyse the situation. One was large and muscled but his motions were slower than the other. The smaller one was clearly on the losing end of the fight but he was quick. It would be harder to get a hold of the smaller one but the larger one would be harder to keep a hold of. Finally, after what felt like hours of consideration, but she was sure was only seconds. Military men had the moves down pat, he would know how to get out of whatever hold she could get him into, if not by sheer force than by skilful manoeuvring. The smaller one she could take.

She waited until the smaller one got back up on his feet; his back was towards her as she aimed her kick. Straight to the back of the knees with as much force as she could manage, sending the man to the floor again this time crying in pain.

"I said stop!" She yelled again this time wrapping her arms around his neck in a half nelson, forcing him into a painful child's pose. "Are we done yet?" She asked not expecting him to manage to get out of it.

The man wriggled like a fish and escaped from her hold, this time swinging a knife. The fight had garnered a fair amount of attention from the crowd. And as soon as the glint of sharp medal was seen women started screaming. The man with the knife turned on Isobel, his current conflict momentarily forgotten as he took as swing at her. She managed to duck before he caught anything important with the little pig sticker but he did manage to slice a long line down her forearm.

"Damn it!" Isobel hollered as she looked at the red seeping out of her arm. Grabbing for his wrist to stop his violent attacks. In an attempt to gain the upper hand she backed him into the closest wall and rammed her knee into his groin. "Stop fucking fighting it!"

As her knee made contact with his soft flesh his hold on the knife loosened and she managed to pry it from his hand. She stuck the knife into the drywall next to his head. Looking into his petrified eyes she could see his pupils were dilated, it was clear he was high.

"Get out of here before I call the cops." Isobel warned as she grabbed the knife again and walked away just as Mischa managed to break through the throngs of people. "Mischa, here is going to escort you from the building and you will never be allowed back through the doors again." She pushed the man towards the hulking Russian.

"Everything else is okay?" Mischa asked with a thick accent that Isobel suspected he let it out more to scare troublemakers. It was terrifying.

"Yeah, I think we have it all sorted." Isobel nodded. "Just take out the trash." She turned her back on the scene knowing it would be taken care of.

Sidling up to the bar she asked one of the girls serving drinks to make her a bag of ice for her face.

"Make her a drink too, a strong one." A woman's voice called behind her. "That was impressive, more impressive than your dancing." Thea patted her on the back but Isobel had slumped her head onto the bar and groaned loudly. "Get up walk around a little." Thea suggested after a moment. "You don't look too good."

"Whisky." Isobel lifted her head up. "I want a whisky, neat, make it a double." She waited impatiently as the drink was made and set in front of her. Without thinking she slung it back before standing up and walking around to try and get her blood moving. She made her way to the bathroom but stopped as she saw a familiar blonde exiting another door with an ugly looking passcode locking system on it, just past both restrooms.

Isobel jogged slightly to catch the door before it swung closed all of the way. Barely catching the lock with her index finger she slipped inside the room and looked around. She stood there for a second in almost complete darkness on what she thought she could identify as the landing of a flight of stairs.

"What the hell?" She asked herself as she reached around in the dark for a handrail. Finally finding one she moved carefully down the stairs. She could hear the thumping of music above her and realised that this must be a basement used for storage or something. But whatever they were storing must have been worth a fortune to justify a lock like that. Immediately Isobel's mind went to the worst.

It could be a drug lab, or a human trafficking prison, or an illegal arms warehouse. It could literally be anything under the sun and Isobel was walking in as if she thought it was going to be a field of daisies.

Once she made it to the bottom of the stairs the lights flickered on, they must have been motion activated or some such system. What Isobel saw made her mouth drop. There was some sort of training area over in the corner along with an uncomfortable looking couch. In the centre of the large space was a monster of a computer system. But that wasn't what caught her eye because there was also several display cases that currently sat empty. One must have held some sort of uniform while the other looked like a magazine rack turned on its side. Isobel couldn't help herself as she moved forward. Next to the empty displays was a rack of green tipped arrows. Isobel picked one up as soon as she got close enough and examined it with rapt attention. She held on to it as she moved to look at the other types of weapons all on display in the cave like room. After running her fingers over all of it including an extensive medical set up she turned her fingers towards the computers.

Isobel had never really had a knack for technology, she never had the money for a laptop and the crappy public ones liked to freeze up on her whenever they were presented with the smallest of tasks. Hesitantly she moved the mouse, fully expecting nothing to come of it but to her surprise the multiple computer screens glowed to life. The first thing she noticed was on the computer to the farthest right; it was a picture of her from five years ago. When the government had taken her photo, documenting her time in the RayvensCorp refugee camp.

She studied the picture for longer than she should have remembering the day she had gotten it. She wasn't smiling, there was no reason to smile, she hadn't eaten in a week and her face clearly showed her long-term starvation. Her hair hadn't been washed due to the lack of running water and she had attempted to hide it with a forest green scarf she had dug out of a pile of clothes. Her skin was easily three shades darker than it usually was because of the dirt and on that particular day all she could managed to be thankful for was that, in November, it was too cold for the flies to be around to bother her.

She hated that picture, as far as she was concerned it was proof of her stay in a death camp, and that was what some people called it. RayvensCorp let them starve while their mercenaries got full three square meals a day. RayvensCorp won the contract from the government to set up peacekeeping stations around the base of the wall, as well as refugee camps in some of the less habitable sections. For Isobel they were just a big name for devil and the thought of them made her stomach turn.

She scrolled down on the file and again she was blown away. Someone had taken the time to pull up every ounce of information on her. Pictures of when she was little, medical and dental records, her job history, past boyfriends, everything that made Isobel herself was typed neatly on a computer screen. She finally scrolled down to the bottom of the file and saw it, the video Thea had shown her. Moving the mouse again she saw that someone had already watched it through to the end and it sat there teasingly asking her if she wanted to replay it.

Once she managed to tear her eyes away from the information in front of her she saw what the file was labelled under. In neat lettering that conveyed no emotion was the simple word _'Protect'_. Isobel started choking and had to force several long breaths into her lungs before she was able to think again.

"What are you doing down here?"


	4. Chapter 4

To say he was mad would have been an understatement, he was furious. Oliver rushed towards her and plucked her out of the chair she had perched on. With a few hard taps on the keyboard he made the screens go black again. He was wearing a tight leather jacket in a deep green along with matching leather pants. A hood lay around his shoulders partially hiding what looked like a quiver of arrows.

"Hey buddy, hands off!" Isobel screeched as Oliver started running his hands down her sides. At first she was confused but then she realised what he was doing, he was making sure she hadn't stolen anything. "I didn't take a damn thing! What would I want with a bunch of bows and arrows?" She sneered trying to cover her fear.

"How did you get down here?" He bellowed. "How did you get passed my security system?"

"The way everyone gets into a room, I used the door! Your friend left it open a little when she left. I was curious." Isobel defended with a glare.

"You know what they say about curiosity, pussycat?" Oliver questioned his face intimidatingly close to hers.

"What, you gonna kill me Oliver?" Isobel threw back in his face. She didn't know much about him but it only took her a second to see he wasn't a killer. "What is this? Why do you have my information, why does it say protect? Who's trying to protect me? What do I need protection from?" She didn't want to admit there was fear in her voice but there was. The mass amounts of weaponry told her that what ever it was it was dangerous. The medical supplies told her people could get hurt, that people had been hurt.

Oliver looked at her and shook his head. For a moment Isobel thought that meant he wasn't going to tell her anything.

"You have to tell me! Do I need to leave the country? Is it really that bad?" Isobel almost let out a whimper as she backed away from him. "Shit, I don't have the money for that!" Sweat broke out on her face as she started to pace back and forth, wringing her fingers.

"Hang on!" Oliver caught her shoulders. "It's okay, I'm going to protect you. I promise." Oliver looked her in the eyes and she could feel the intensity in his stare.

"Just what are you going to do, play with your stupid arrows?" Se plucked one out from behind his back and twirled it around her fingers, attempting to release some stress. "Am I going to die?"

"No, No, I'm not going to let that happen. Sit down let me explain." Oliver pushed gently on her shoulders, forcing her back into the spinning office chair she had just abandoned. "We have been tracing a number of strange accidents, all seemingly unrelated. We didn't notice the pattern until it happened here." Oliver turned and brought up a picture on one of the computer screens. "Her name was Analise, she worked at a gentlemen's club on the other side of town for a year but before that she,"

"She lived in the refugee camp RayvensCorp set up, I remember her." Isobel tapped the metallic arrow against her knee. "She lived next to me, section three ninety two. I didn't know she had moved this far out, she was always talking about moving west. Is she okay?" Isobel asked, suddenly worried that her friend was in trouble.

Oliver nodded slightly, but the look of complete sadness on his face made her heart break.

"She was found dead in an alley way a few weeks ago. It looked like a drug overdose, officially the police are calling it an accident." Oliver whispered the words.

"No," Isobel could hear the tears in her voice. "No, she wasn't like that. She would never touch the stuff. She would refuse pain medications, she would never touch anything harder than an aspirin!" Isobel argued, getting madder and madder as she spoke.

"I know, I know, we believe you. There was nothing in her system but there was a needle in her arm." He held up a hand to stop the protest she as about to start. "We did a little research and there have been a string of fifteen deaths across the country, the only thing in common is that section of that particular camp."

He clicked another couple of buttons and a map showed up with fifteen red marks spread out across the United States.

"You think someone is out there killing people that lived in section three ninety two? No, it must have been a coincidence or something." Isobel argued but even she didn't believe it. "There were easily a hundred women living there and even more children but we knew nothing. Why would someone want to kill us?" And that really was the question because someone was trying to kill her too, if they were killing the women she lived with it was only a matter of time before they were going to go after her.

"They're trying to cover something up. We just can't figure out what." Oliver looked at her like she might suddenly remember.

"Listen, things were bad there. You didn't really eat, you were never clean, and you considered yourself lucky if you made it through the day without being assaulted, but that was normal. It certainly isn't worth killing over, and it really isn't worth killing nobodies over." That was what she was, she didn't have a voice that would sway millions, she was lucky if it could sway one person, and she didn't have any family. Isobel was so inconsequential it was unbelievable that someone was going to try and kill her.

"We're going to figure it out, I'm going to protect you, I promise." Oliver's sincerity threw her back in her seat.

"You aren't shitting me? This is really happening? And you're some strange superhero or something?" Isobel asked.

She was suddenly struck by how close they were sitting, Oliver's breath fanned over her face as he appraised her. By look in his eyes he thought she was going to lose it.

"I'm no hero, but I am going to try to protect you."

"If you aren't a superhero than you are certifiably insane. You stumble upon a plan to kill hundreds of innocent people and you don't go to the cops? Mercenaries could be on their way to my door any minute! What are you going to do? Shoot a couple arrows at them? I've seen these guys fight and they are pure evil."

"It's more than just you. In the past six months Starling City has become a hub for refugees, in particular refugees from that particular section. What made you come here?" he asked finally.

"What do you mean? I got fired from my last job and I decided to move, I opened a map and picked the friendliest sounding name." Isobel shrugged getting annoyed with not understanding.

"What does that mean, the friendliest sounding name?" Oliver's eyebrows twitched together.

"Do you have a map? I can show you." Isobel offered.

Oliver pealed back several sheets of paper that littered the desk before he found an old travellers map. Spreading it out in the table she was able to see all of the major cities she had been too.

"I left Blüdhaven a year after the attack and I moved as I could afford it. I never had anything planned out for longer than three months max. The plan was always to head west but I never knew where I was going till I got there." She grabbed for a marker that lay on the desk. She slowly traced her five-year journey across the states until she reached Las Vegas. "This is where I decided Starling City. These are bad." She pointed north of their current location, nonchalantly as if everyone knew that.

"Why are these bad?" Oliver asked as he took the marker from her and drew large X marks through the states she had deemed bad.

"I don't know, something just tells me that's not where I belong, not where I am meant to be." Isobel shrugged as she thought about it. She had never questioned her gut before but now, given her situation she started to worry.

"Okay, so why didn't you go further south?" He pointed to larger cities closer to the Mexican boarder.

Isobel shrugged again.

"I don't speak Spanish." She finally justified. "Honestly it was just this city, it sounded right, safe. I can't explain it but this is where I am supposed to be, I can feel it in my gut." That was the truth, she was so convinced that this was where she was supposed to be that she had signed a lease, something she had never done before.

"That doesn't make sense." Oliver shook his head.

"Is your city that bad? Should I really be that scared?" Isobel would have laughed if she weren't so terrified.

"What made you choose The Glades?"

"Have you seen my bank account? Oh never mind, I forgot, you have? I don't live in the ghetto by choice! I know if something bad is going to happen it's going to be there. But it is also what I know and what I could afford at the time."

"Something is going on, I need to figure out what it is." Oliver leaned in to study the map.

Once again Isobel realised just how close they were. Oliver's hip brushed against hers and she couldn't help but notice again just how attractive he was. She turned to face him and let her eyes seep in everything that made him just so attractive.

"So you're the man in the hood that the news was talking about?" Isobel questioned, not really needing an answer to come to the right conclusion.

"I don't know what you are talking about." Oliver met her gaze with a smirk.

"Oh you don't say?" She cocked an eyebrow as she moved forward and flipped up the hood that rested around his shoulders so that it sat on his head. "Do the sexy voice they all say he has." She demanded with a laugh, her arms still wrapped around his neck.

"Is that what they say?" She could hear the amusement in his voice.

"I think one of the reporters has a crush on him." Isobel winked slightly before stepping back. "Seriously, are you the hood guy?"

"Yes." Oliver muttered finally.

"That's why your hands are rough, because you do all of this amazing stuff. You know the papers call you a hero. I've only been here a week and everyone has felt the need to tell me what a hero the hooded man is."

"I'm not a hero. I'm just trying to fix the wrongs I can."

"Yeah, but these days it takes a hero to be a decent human being." Isobel argued. "If you are really going to protect me, I want to be an active member of the team. I won't just sit back and have someone else fight my battles. I have more of a reason than anybody to want to see RayvensCorp on its knees and if this leads to that I want to be a part of it."

"No." Oliver moved across the room and started stripping out of his tight leather outfit.

"What are you doing?" Isobel asked as she watched him pull of the tight fighting leather jacket. Not that she was complaining by any means.

"I'm trying to show you what happens when you get involved with this shit." Oliver turned to face her and she sucked in a breath. He was covered in scars. They marred his skin in a way she did not expect from the playboy persona he tried so hard to push on her.

There was something so personal in the way Oliver allowed her to take in his scars, these clearly all meant something important to him. Without thinking about it she pulled at fisheye hooks that connected her corset together. Prying the costume off of her skin she stood in front of him naked from the waist up, proudly displaying her own scars.

"Doesn't it look like I'm already involved?" She asked finally. "This here is a bullet wound from when I got in a fight with one of the other women and the guard thought it would be best to put a bullet in me to 'calm me down', this is where I got caught stealing a can of tuna from the distribution centre, and this one," she lifted up her arm to expose the long jagged line that cut into the underside of her breast. "This is where some man in a RayvensCorp uniform held a knife to me and demanded I share my bed with him." She had thousands of small scars that littered her torso, proof that she had survived.

She heard Oliver growl as she told him the last one and she couldn't help but turn her head away in shame. Isobel was looking at the ground when she felt his calloused fingers tug at her chin forcing her to face him.

"I will protect you." He whispered through tight lips as if he were trying to hold something back.

Isobel opened her mouth to say something about it but as she did she felt an overwhelming wave of nausea come over her. She took a step back and let her head slump slightly.

"I don't feel so good." She whispered as her vision, that was already blurry from the fight she had just broken up, started to sway. Isobel closed her eyes hoping that when she opened them everything would be back to normal, but instead she looked up to see several concerned looking Oliver's towering over her. "That's not right." She whispered before her vision went black all together and she passed out.


	5. Chapter 5

Isobel's vision flickered in and out, she only wished the pain would do the same. The problem was the pain wasn't anywhere she could reasonably fix. Short of a lobotomy she couldn't think of anything to make the stabbing pain stop or even dull. She thought her head was going to split open.

An animalistic howl of sheer pain tore through her lungs. Before things went black again she saw a short blonde looking down at her with concern. She looked so familiar but Isobel couldn't think where she had seen her before. The next time Isobel was able to see something there was a new face swimming over her. Isobel was sure she had seen him somewhere before but time and date escaped her as she let out another scream. 'His eyes, they were kind' she thought briefly before thinking was impossible. She thought she heard Oliver talking once she closed her eyes but she couldn't be sure, the pain was so intense she couldn't determine specifics.

Finally her mind took mercy on her body and stopped feeling things.

The next time she woke up it was better. The stabbing feeling had turned into a dull ache, something she would categorise as more annoying than actual pain. She was lying down but not on the floor where she had fallen. Instead she saw as she sat up that she was lying on a metal table. Without thinking about the consequences she dropped her feet onto the cold ground, trying to support her weight. She legs wobbled dangerously before they gave way. Isobel closed her eyes as she tired to brace for impact with the concrete. Only it never came.

When she opened her eyes again she saw the familiar sapphire eyes she appreciated.

"Holy fuck, I'm still naked." She whispered with a hoarse voice. "Holy hell you're still naked!"

The comment earned a chuckle from Oliver as he looked down at her hands furiously working to cover her chest.

"I have a shirt you can wear." He offered as Isobel pretended she didn't notice his gaze lingering on her.

"Do you have a shirt you can wear?" She asked after a moment.

"Why? You don't have a problem with my shirtless-ness do you?" He asked with a taunting grin.

"Hey if you want to parade around the place without a shirt, do it. It will make a more interesting story to tell the cops when I call them." Isobel pushed out of Oliver's grasp and wobbled slightly before leaning back on the table.

"Why are you calling the cops?" Oliver looked like he didn't believe a word she spoke.

"Hero or not what you are doing is illegal and dangerous, if there are really these bad guys after me I'm going to need more than one guy playing Robin Hood." She glared at him.

"Excuse me, if he's Robin Hood what does that make us?" Came a small female voice from the corner.

Isobel jumped and turned too quickly loosing her battle with balance and listing heavily to the side.

There were two women leaning against the table that housed the computers. Both blonde, both seriously well endowed, both looking some mix between jealous and exasperated. Personally Isobel thought the one with the glasses was pulling off the look better. The other just seemed to be going through the motions.

"I know you, you're Felicity, we've met." Isobel smiled in recognition. "Thanks for leaving the door open for me." She joked. For the time being she decided to ignore the other blonde, if she wanted to introduce herself she was more than welcome to. "Okay, someone tell me what happened." She demanded as she rubbed at the spot on her head that still hurt. "How long was I out?"

"About four hours." Felicity looked at her watch. "And for the record I didn't leave the door open for you." Her scowl would have made Isobel laugh if she hadn't been floored by the answer to her question.

'What the hell was wrong with her?' She panicked slightly.

"Did you take any drugs this afternoon?" Oliver's voice had turned scary and Isobel shrunk back slightly. Even as he handed her the soft grey cotton t-shirt his jaw line was set in a particularly hard line.

"Why act as if you haven't been following me around?" Isobel scoffed. "It's the reason Ollie doesn't like you. You know I didn't take any drugs. The closest thing I took to a drug was the whiskey shot." Isobel grumped. "Why, what was it?"

"There were record levels of a drug called Vertigo in your system. If I didn't know any better I would have thought you had taken the stuff right in front of me." Oliver looked concerned as Isobel slipped the shirt over her head.

"I've never heard of the stuff." Isobel dismissed with a wave of her hand. "Your tests must have been wrong." She shrugged to hide her true level of panic.

"Or it could be that someone drugged you in an attempt to kill you like they did with your friend." Felicity cut in with a quick survey of the room. Oliver gave her a look behind Isobel's back and she quickly added. "But I guess it's possible I could have made a mistake." The words looked like they pained her.

Isobel studied Felicity's face as she spoke and suddenly sucked in a breath. The facial expressions were so similar to someone she knew but she couldn't put her finger on it.

"Do you have any family in Las Vegas, Felicity?" Isobel questioned finally. "You look just like someone I used to know."

"My mother's a cocktail waitress at the Caesars Palace." Felicity flushed slightly.

Isobel sucked in a large breath that came out as a laugh.

"You aren't Felicity Smoak, are you?" Isobel laughed. "Your mother isn't Marie Smoak?" Isobel nearly choked on her own laughter. "She was always talking about her genius daughter that was going to MIT. We all thought she was full of crap." Isobel sighed as her laughter subsided. "We worked in different areas of the same casino. She would get so drunk and insist on teaching us self-defence. The woman could barely stand up at this point but that wouldn't stop her from attempting all if these things she had seen on the television."

Isobel stopped her rant when she realised that Felicity clearly didn't find it nearly as amusing as she did.

"She's a really nice woman and all she can ever do is say nice things about you." Isobel paused. "She talked about grand babies a lot." She noticed Felicity physically stifle a groan before she turned to Oliver. "So how bad is this Vertigo stuff?" She asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"You seem incredibly calm about all of this." A soft voice called from the opposite corner. Isobel looked over and saw the man with the kind eyes. His dark complexion emphasised his large brown eyes in a way Isobel found completely captivating. He was safety. The lines that creased around his eyes and the posture he held told her that he was the oldest person in the room and had quite clearly come from little to no money. She wondered why for a moment before she heard him talking again. "Most people, when they hear they have been drugged freak out. You just accepted it as if we had just told you the weather." His head cocked to the side as he stood up and fixed her with a serious look.

"You can't get too fussed about putting something in your drink, it happens." Isobel shrugged. "The only time you should start freaking out is if you wake up without your panties, that happens too."

Oliver let out a sound that sounded like a growl and Isobel took a noticeable step back. She noticed the silent blonde take a step forward and the complete fury in her eyes made Isobel gulp.

"It's life and you either accept it and adapt or you don't and you die." Isobel held up her hands to try and make peace.

"We actually haven't died." Felicity seemed disgusted by what Isobel had said but her words were calm and her face seemed hopeful.

"You haven't died yet. Don't have any delusions, this little side business will kill you the only thing that varies how and when. You think you're the first to do this kind of shit? It's why I'm calling the cops." Isobel nodded as if she was trying to convince herself and in a way she was. She really liked Oliver and the man with the kind eyes. She thought Felicity was really sweet and didn't want to see her get into any trouble.

Isobel's eyes flickered over to Oliver again and she took in his shirtless body again. He was leaning against a huge stack of metal crates; his arms crossed facing her with a contemplative look. There it was clear as day, if she wasn't already freaked out she would have started screaming, the eight-pointed star emblazoned on his chest. Isobel's breath caught She suddenly remembered the stink of clover cigarettes choking at her lungs, the warmth of his flesh pinning her to the table, the burn of vodka forced down her throat. She remembered the rip of Velcro as he pulled his Kevlar vest off, the cold feel of metal as the barrel of a gun pressed against her temple, daring her to make a move, to make a sound.

'That's right _Kotonok_**,** you take care of me and I'll make sure the other guards don't come in here and do worse.' His thick accent coating the words in poison as he spoke them. Isobel flinched at the memory before returning to the present.

She needed to get out of there. It was as if the room suddenly didn't have enough oxygen. She glanced again at the tattoo before stepping back and tilting her head away slightly.

"You should have told me you were a Bratva. If I had known I would have kept my distance." She shook her head. "I've changed my mind. I won't call the cops, I won't mention this place to anyone, and I'll forget what I saw I promise." Her breathing hitched. "Th-th-thank you for your protection." She was seconds away from breaking down. "I have to go, please let me go."

"Okay I'm confused." Felicity held up a finger and wrinkled her nose slightly.

Oliver moved his hand further up his chest in an attempt to cover the mark. He looked guilty but kept a hard gaze not saying a word.

"It's the tattoo." The man with the kind eyes spoke up as he pushed himself off the table he had perched against. "Hi Isobel." His voice became soft and cautious. "Isobel I know you don't know me but my name is John Diggle." He rolled the sleeves of his right arm and held out his forearm.

The marking looked like a sword with two arrows forming an 'X' behind it. Underneath the symbol were the words 'De Oppresso Liber'.

"Do you know what this one means?" He asked softly. Isobel shook her head slowly her forehead creased as she tried to hold back her terror. "It's the US army special forces insignia. I am a soldier, do you think I would work with someone in the Mafia?"

"I know lots of corrupt soldiers." Isobel muttered with her hands planted on her thighs to hide the fact that they were trembling. "I have done lots of things for lots of corrupt soldiers, please let me go and I won't say anything."

"No one is keeping you here." John assured her with a sympathetic look.

"Okay." Isobel breathed out but her feet didn't move.

She suddenly felt disgusting, she had flirted with him, and she thought he was a good man, but this wasn't, this wasn't a good thing. She was wearing his shirt. Oliver moved closer to her and she backed away before running into a wall.

"No, no, I really, I want you to put a shirt on and I don't want you to touch me." She put her hand up to stop him. "Please, please don't touch me."

She knew these types of men, she knew that her words wouldn't stop him if he really wanted to touch her. All she could do was beg and pray. To her surprise Oliver stopped his movements and held his hands up in surrender. The blonde without a name stepped in front of her blocking both Oliver and John from her line of sight.

"Step away from her." She warned in a serious voice.

"Sara, you know I would never," Oliver didn't get to finish his sentence before Sara cut him off by brandishing a gun in his face.

"I said. Step. Away. From. Her. Now!" Sara demanded, leaving absolutely no room for debate.

Both Oliver and Diggle took large steps backwards; Isobel assumed it had less to do with the gun and more with the level and tone of Sara's voice.

"They aren't going to hurt you. You don't have to be worried."

"When you live the life I have lived you learn that you always need to be worried. If you don't live with that worry you have lived a more blessed life than I have." Her indignation came back full force. She might not have been able to stop him but it left a sour taste in her mouth that this woman she barely knew was defending her.

Isobel understood that it was silly and even a little archaic but she either wanted to defend herself or have a man defend her, someone else pulling alpha girl on her just didn't sit well with Sophie.

She was the top. No discussion.

**AN: Hi! So this was just to make the introductions and whet your palette. Just so everyone is in the know Kotonok is Russian for kitten, but I guess you could have looked that up. Google translate... it's a beautiful thing.**


	6. Chapter 6

Isobel let herself be dragged over to the ratty couch by Felicity. There was something about the soft blonde that lowered her guard. Her brain instantly classified her as 'not a threat'. She watched as Sara pulled Oliver over into the shadows. Apparently she thought that would stop Isobel from overhearing the conversation they were having, it didn't. Oliver's voice was too deep for him to whisper covertly and Sara was trying to match his, both of them were too loud for Isobel not to eaves drop.

"What were you thinking?" Oliver yelled softly, Isobel could see his hands move to Sara's waist, holding her close.

"She was scared, Oliver, and she wasn't going to trust you or Diggle. I had to do something." Sara matched his stance, a move that made it clear they were equals. Neither 'wore the pants' and the relationship confused Isobel. A man and woman being equal in the Russian Mafia just really didn't happen.

"A gun, Sara!" Oliver sounded indignant.

"It wasn't even loaded, don't tell me you were scared." Isobel could hear the smile in Sara's voice. "You know I would never hurt you." Sara moved closer and Isobel finally got that she was intruding on a conversation that could get very personal but she couldn't tear her eyes or ears away.

"You take things too far." Oliver warned but the anger ebbed out of his voice. He reached around her hip and grabbed the gun out of her holster. "No more guns, loaded or not."

"She's still here, isn't she?" Sara motioned over to the couch. "She hasn't called the cops, maybe now would be a good time to explain yourself."

"Why don't you go talk to her?" Oliver asked and if Isobel was hearing him correctly she thought she heard reluctance in his voice.

"Because she doesn't like me. After defending her she doesn't even say thank you, and she didn't tell me her name. Trust me, she doesn't want to talk to me." Sara reached up and planted a soft kiss on Oliver's cheek and irrationally Isobel felt a pang of jealousy.

Before the emotion could morph into anything else she squashed it down and focused on the glass of water Felicity handed her.

"No offence but do you have anything stronger?" Isobel tweaked her lips upwards at Felicity.

"I have a bottle of vodka, I usually save it for," She stopped as Isobel held up a hand.

"No, not vodka, not tonight." Usually she could drink whatever she wanted without remembering her past, but tonight with that memory so etched in her mind, the very idea made her want to be sick. "Water's just fine, thanks."

"Listen I'm not really sure what happened back there but I can assure you that Oliver is a good person, he's not whatever you think he is." Felicity sat in an office chair opposite Isobel.

"Why would he have that mark on his chest if he wasn't?" Isobel remained focused on the glass of water she had yet to take a sip of.

"I'm not sure how he got it but I know he has never done any of the bad things you have lived through." Her words seemed very well thought out as if she were trying to hide something.

"But he has done bad things? Look I don't blame you for falling in with him, I know that, _that_ life can be appealing for some women." Now it was Isobel's turn to choose her words carefully.

"Hang on what type of life do you think I am living?" Felicity adopted a loud boom of a voice.

"Hey, I didn't mean to offend you." Isobel held up her hands.

Their little spat had caused Oliver, Diggle, and Sara to look over at them. Felicity looked as red as a tomato.

"Offend me? Offend me?" Felicity repeated looking indignant.

"It's not something to be ashamed about. But if that's not the life you are living, than fine." Isobel was trying her best not to start yelling.

"You're calling me a whore!"

"No I'm not!" Isobel stood up. "If I was wrong or if I made some assumption that you aren't comfortable with then I'm sorry. I am just trying to explain to you why I reacted the way that I did. I have met men with that symbol on them. Do you know where they get them? Prison! You want a lead about who might be coming after me? Look for a man with that mark on his knees." Isobel drew herself up and focused her gaze on Felicity.

Isobel was easily half a foot taller than Felicity and she had an ice glare she had worked on perfecting for years. Mafia men, she backed down, she knew her place, but with women, or anyone else really, it was a different story. She didn't like taking orders from people. She expected the girl to shrink before her and when she didn't Isobel snapped her head back.

"Why should we be looking for a man with tattoos on his knees?" Oliver came forward, approaching cautiously as if she might run and hide if he spoke too quickly.

Isobel looked down at her feet and muttered something unintelligible. Oliver must not have liked it because he took three steps over towards her and put two fingers under her chin, propping her head up.

"I'm the same man you ran into at the coffee shop. I promise I am never going to hurt you."

Isobel just nodded. Despite his assurances she still felt some inane need to make herself appear helpless.

"The man with the tattoo, he was one of the head guards at the camp. If you could keep him happy you were safe and usually pretty well fed. There was a rumour, it was never confirmed or anything but it went around that he reported directly to Father Time. The rumour was that he chose which of us would be sent to the camps."

"The camps?" John asked in an equally soft voice.

"Some times you went for day, other times you went for a week, sometimes people just never came back. I was selected to go once, me and, I don't know, fifty others. It was only three days. When we got back none of us could really remember what had happened. I had fresh bruises on my arm but I never could remember how I had gotten them." Isobel rubbed her arm at remembering the pain. "After that we learned that it was in our best interest to keep the man with the marks happy."

"Who is this Father Time figure?" Felicity's anger was momentarily forgotten as she moved over towards the computers.

"He's a myth." Isobel's dark humour flipped as she chuckled dryly. "Some people said he was a Godsend, that he would pick the worst of the camps and hand out food to the children. Other's said he was a mobster that made his money from the Chemo and killed any hope we might have. But in the end everyone said the same thing, he created these internment camps and some needed to go so the rest could live. I never saw him. Like I said, he's a myth."

"Don't be so sure." Felicity's eyes were glued to the screen in front of her as Oliver wrapped around her so that he could see the screen. Isobel kept her eyes on Felicity, waiting for the flinch she was sure was coming.

But it didn't.

Felicity worked as if she wasn't aware of his presence. But she was. She knew that he was there and it didn't affect her. Maybe he really was a good guy. Maybe her thoughts were wrong. She stopped herself before she got any further. It didn't matter if people thought he was a good guy she wanted to know what he had done to earn that damn mark before she trusted him, and even if she trusted him she would have a hard time acting like herself around him.

"So, just to be clear she's one of us now right?" Felicity asked with a minute glance at Isobel.

"I don't know." Oliver looked at Isobel in question.

"Until I'm safe. I want to know what's going on. I can't help you though." Isobel finally answered with her jaw set.

"Welcome to the club, I've been told we can't get t-shirts but I was thinking maybe a commemorative mug or something." Felicity rambled with a roll of her eyes. Clearly her reaction to disappointing news was sarcasm. Great. Felicity might not be a threat but having her hate Isobel could raise problems for her in the future.

"Do you want me to teach you some basic self defence?" John asked in a soft voice. "I have been showing Felicity some of the basics."

"I lived for year in a place I have seen the papers compare to the Gaza strip. I escaped from The Wall through an underground railroad. I can defend myself I just can't attack people." Isobel shrugged feeling annoyed that she couldn't shake her own insecurities.

"Would you mind showing us?" Oliver wasn't even looking at her anymore. His jaw was set and he was looking at an invisible speck on the wall behind her.

"Why? I mean I will but I want to know why first." She clarified forcing herself to treat him differently than how she wanted to.

"I need to know if I can leave you alone here, what kind of protection you actually need." Oliver justified, his eye's told her everything she needed to know. He wanted to help her but her behaviour was getting in the way of his efforts.

"Okay." Isobel took a deep breath. She bent down and unzipped her stiletto boots before slipping them off her feet. "Where do you want me?" She moved her hands in a sideways motion.

"What are you doing?" Felicity asked, pointing at her shoes.

"Well contrary to popular belief this isn't some sort of comic book and I can't actually defend myself in stripper heals." Isobel snorted as she kicked at the boots making them slide under the couch.

"Over there." Oliver pointed to a padded mat in the centre of the room.

Isobel walked to the centre and watched as John started towards her only to be stopped by Oliver. The man lacked any amount of secrecy and even as he tried to whisper Isobel could hear him from across the room.

"Don't hurt her." He warned and Isobel had to bite her own lip to keep from making some dumb comment.

John nodded before continuing to her. He took off his shoes too and she couldn't tell if it was because he thought things should be fair or if he really didn't want to hurt her. He looked at her for a moment and raised his fists waiting for something Isobel couldn't identify.

"Are you ready?" he asked finally.

"Am I ready to get into a fight with someone? -" She was cut off by John's body hurtling into hers.

Isobel reacted on instinct as she made her body go limp and she wriggled out of his grasp.

"You aren't really playing fair." Isobel gasped out as she held her side.

"An attacker won't play fair, they will wait for you to let your guard down and they will attack you when you least -" This time it was Isobel that cut him off as she aimed a jab at his neck.

"You talk a lot." Isobel noted before being swept off her feet with a very powerful John Diggle pining her to the ground. It was clear from the look on his face that he thought he had one.

His hand was within reach of her mouth. She held back for a moment, knowing that it would technically be breaking the rules to a clean fight, before realising that he had broken them first. She didn't have to think about it anymore as she reached up and clamped her teeth down on his pinkie finger. It didn't work like she thought it would, he didn't release her in favour of his hand but his grip on her did loosen and she was able to free herself. Isobel looked around for a moment thinking about what she would really do if someone attacked her.

_'__Get a weapon, protect yourself!'_ A voice in her head yelled. But what would she use as a weapon? This place was stoked to the brim with things that wear actual weapons but the closest thing to her was a bunch of arrows. Not particularly helpful without a bow, even if she knew how to shoot it which she didn't. There were sharp metal objects she couldn't identify in the corner but they were too far away.

Arrow's were the only option. _'Use the pointy end!' _her voice shouted as she bolted to the table and grabbed the closest arrow. She had just grasped the feathered end as John's hands wrapped around her hips dragging her back to the mat. He pinned her there again this time using one of his hands to simulate a gun as he pressed it to her forehead.

"You're dead." He panted slightly.

"So are you." She let out a large breath and pressed the arrowhead further into his side. "If I'm going down I'm taking at least one other with me." John rolled off of her and hopped to his feet. "That's the stomach right?" She asked, almost ninety per cent confident that the answer was yes.

"If you can manage to puncture someone in the stomach they are in for a long painful death." John confirmed with a nod.

"I know. The first time I saw a man shot was through the stomach." She shivered at the memory. "It smells foul." She wrinkled her nose. She was still out of breath as she moved over to take a sip fro her still full glass of water. "Do you guys need anything else from me? I really should be getting home. Ollie hates being in his crate all night and he's probably starving and wants to go for a run or something." Isobel rambled slightly.

She caught Oliver give John a purposeful look and the latter nodded.

"I'll follow behind you and make sure everything is safe before I call it a night." John informed her.

Isobel wasn't so keen on a practical stranger following her home but she could see the logic in it. If what Oliver told her was true then someone was out to kill her and denying protection seemed tantamount to suicide at that point.

"Fine." She kept her responses brief to hide the tension in her voice. She left without saying goodbye, she really didn't see a reason too.

They hadn't gotten off on the right foot and she was tired both from trying to prove herself worthy of their protection and time as well as the pain she had lived through from someone spiking her drink. It was nothing compared to the weariness she felt in the camp but five years away from that life and she had gotten used to mush shorter, much more relaxed days. The thought of going back to that made her even more tired.

Walking into her small apartment she heard Oliver's signature whine. Letting him out of the crate and walking him over to the futon she scratched behind his ears.

"You wouldn't believe the day I have had Ollie." She commented even as her eyes started to drift shut. "Come on baby let's take a nap." She patted the spot next to her which really wasn't enough room for the large dog but she made due as Oliver rested his large head and neck over her hip, pinning her to the bed.

Isobel was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow but Oliver remained alert. His eyes trained on the semi raised blinds and the scene out of her apartment. On the rooftop of the building across the street was a man with a forest green hood obscuring most of his face. The man in the hood and the dog both spotted each other and for the next three hours of darkness they watched each other, both watching over the sleeping woman. It was there that they came to a silent understanding. Isobel had to be saved.

For the man it was about saving the world. For the dog it was clear, they were a pack and a pack sticks together. Always.


	7. Chapter 7

The days dragged. Isobel fell into a pattern that was unhealthy and incredibly boring. Starling City was had an interesting break down. There was the mega poor, the scourge of the earth, the hustlers, pimps, and gang bangers. Than there were the multi millionaires, the playboys, the fancy car drivers, the upper set that sipped on fluorescent drinks with little to no alcohol. And Isobel spent her nights keeping them well lubricated with grenadine and blue curacao. Her favourite was when someone came up asking for rainbow shots. God bless the man that put that on the Internet, it was made up of mostly sugar and juice. And then frat boys on spring break would drink them all and pretend like they were far drunker than they actually were. Then at three in the morning, an hour after she had scraped the last drunk off the bar and her section was at least moderately cleaned, she headed downstairs and she would wait.

Felicity, John, Sara, and Oliver all had their jobs. They would bustle around and Isobel would sit there. She was on strict orders from Felicity not to touch anything electronic after she had accidentally pressed a couple buttons and brought up pictures of Felicity and a short, lean, brunette man.

That lasted for about a week. Each time she came in it would take about twenty minutes and Oliver would limp in with minor cuts and bruises. She would watch as Felicity fretted over him. Oliver would try to make small talk and at first Isobel didn't take the bait. She would respond with a simple yes or no. And then exactly a week later, he was really hurt. He didn't come in limping; he didn't walk in at all. Diggle was carrying him over his shoulder and Diggle was the one limping. Sara trailed in behind him looking worried. As John deposited Oliver on a table in the edge of the room he started muttering about what had happened but Isobel didn't listen.

"Stop talking." Isobel shot at Diggle as she walked forward. The veins on his neck had become pronounced and his pallor had drained. Something about it seemed very familiar. She grabbed for his arm and pushed his sleeve up, a large bruise was forming in the crook of his elbow, swelling, and stiffening. She frowned for a minute something in the back of her mind was itching at her, begging to be let out of it's cage, but she couldn't remember.

There was a room, dark, cold, florescent lights swung above her. She was strapped to a bed; her arm was hooked up to several tubes leading to a bright orange liquid. She was hot, uncomfortable. She was in pain. Searing pain coursed through her, her head thrashed back on cold steel.

Something strong grasped at her wrist, snapping her back to reality. Oliver managed to lift his head minutely.

"RayvensCorp." He whispered and slumped back, his eyes rolling back into his skull.

"Oh my God!" Isobel whispered. "I've seen this before. Get back! It's contagious!" She warned. "Seriously, get back!" She yelled again. "You won't want this! Did he sweat on you or cough or bleed?" She looked at Diggle and Sara. Both shook their head and Isobel let out a sigh. "Good, hopefully you guys are safe. Now get back!" Her tone was much more authoritative than she had used in the past.

Turning back to Oliver she let out a sigh. She thought she had left this behind when she got out. With well-trained fingers she unlaced, unsnapped, and unzipped Oliver's costume. She needed to get him out of all of his clothes fast.

"Not exactly how I imagined taking your clothes off." She muttered before hearing a cough. Isobel turned around and saw the three of them standing there and looking at her. "Okay seriously? I told you all to get away! You don't want this, I know what this is and you don't want it! Because most people that get it die and if they don't it's by the grace of God. So seriously step back." She warned. "I need high proof alcohol, I need ice, I need a rag, I need a metal bowl, and I need some salt. Can someone get that for me please? And some plastic Baggies." She called as she watched Felicity climb the stairs at record speed.

Isobel grabbed for his hand and felt the temperature rising at a shockingly fast rate.

"Oliver!" She shouted, grabbing at his face with one hand keeping it steady as she yelled at him. "You keep fighting! You keep your heart beating. Oliver, wake up!" She slapped his face around a little causing his eyebrows to rise and his eyes to open slightly. "Oliver, it is very important that you listen to me. I need you to answer, I know it might be hard to talk but you need to try. Where did it start? Where were you injected?"

Oliver opened his mouth but the only thing that came out was a low guttural moan.

"Okay, just point." Isobel encouraged, slightly worried that it had progressed so quickly. Usually this was a twenty-four hour illness that almost always ended in death. This had taken over in under three hours something was different. Slowly Oliver's hand moved over to the side of his neck. "Good, good. Now, is it hot or cold? Hot?" She watched Oliver shake his head. "Cold?" He nodded. "Okay, don't worry just keep fighting."

Felicity came back down the stairs with a handful of things.

"Put them on the table and make sure not to touch anything I touch. Wear gloves, as far as I know it's not airborne but I'm not a doctor."

"Then we should take him to a doctor, take this to someone that knows what they're doing." Sara reasoned. Her voice was shaky and her eyes glistened with tears.

"And infect more people? Do you want an epidemic on your head? Because that is what will happen, this thing has a short life, it becomes most infectious after death, and it's painful."

"Why aren't you keeping away?" Felicity asked quietly.

"Thankfully this thing is like chicken pox, once you get it once you're good. I got it in the camps, I almost died and the only reason I lived was because I had an old woman praying over me and a young woman keeping my internal temperature under one hundred and five. Now, I don't know the local priesthood around here but you might want to get them on the phone." She snapped before turning back to the bowl.

The ice went into the bowl, then the salt. She let the temperature drop before scooping it into the bags. "Water! I need water!" She called as she dumped vodka into the bags. Bottles of water appeared in front of her but she couldn't be bothered to see who had put them there. The water went into the bags just before she sealed them. One under each armpit, one at the groin, one on the forehead. She doused the towel in vodka and laid it on top of him.

"Please, let that be enough." She whispered. "Please. I need a thermometer!" She waited for a thermometer to be placed in front of her and this time she saw it was Felicity handing her things and backing away. "Okay let's see." She whispered. "Oliver, fight."


End file.
